Odds and Ends of the Week

In political news, the AP reports that members of a Peruvian faith-healer group predicted the outcome of the U.S. presidential election by blowing incense over a sacred llama fetus perched on a bed of coca leaves next to posters of the leading candidates, and throwing flowers at their images. 9 out of 11 shamans predict an Obama win...
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This video has surfaced in a number of places. It is probably fake. Now, if it does happen to be real, I want him as my pilot any time I fly.



But I don't want his mechanic anywhere near any airplane I ever ride in.
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And these were just some interesting headlines I grabbed:

Toilet shortage feared in case of big Tokyo quake

Vietnam may ban small-chested from driving

Fishy

My grandfather was an avid angler as well as a gifted storyteller. This little story bears a certain resemblance to one of his tales that frequently enchanted me as a child. His version employed an elver (young eel), and only two fish - a largemouth bass and a chain pickerel. But, as it is well-known that fish often continue to grow long after they have been caught, cooked and eaten, I think it is to be expected that fish stories should grow long after their teller has departed this life. So I'm sure that as a man who was skilled at both catching fish and telling tales about them, Oompa would approve of how this story has blossomed in the 30-plus years since his death...

From the minutes of a regular meeting of the Lake Itcheeskippenjump Anglers' Resource Society (never known by its acronym), sworn to as truth by all 14 attendees, 3 of whom were present for the events described:

Call me Ishmael. OK, OK, my name is Dennis Bartle, but I always wanted to say that. My brother, Roger, and my best buddy, Buddy Cluff, and me all went out to the lake last Friday. Yeah, Bobby, I called in sick - it was a mental-health day. Like you never done it before.

Anyways, we stopped at the gas station on the way out of town to get some bait. Hank had a tub of pretty good looking waterdogs, so we had him grab us out a couple dozen. While he was counting them out for us, this funny-looking one hung onto the edge of the scoop. It was kinda small and its right front leg was missing. Hank said he'd throw it in for free if we wanted it. It didn't really look like great bass bait, but what the heck - it was free. We laughed and called him "Lefty."

So we hopped back in the truck and headed on out to the lake. Before long we was out on the water and baiting up our rods. We had some of them harnesses that keep the 'dogs alive longer and lets them move around on the bottom. Roger, he baited up and tossed his line out, and then Buddy did the same. But you all know how clumsy Buddy is...yes, you are - always have been. Hell, no, I didn't spill the damn bucket - that was you and we all know it. Yeah, Buddy got his 'dog on the line and kicked the bucket over, spilling all our bait overboard.

"Pretty expensive chum," someone piped up from the back of the room. Everybody laughed at that one.

"They didn't all fall out," Buddy protested weakly.

And he was right - when I picked up the bucket, why, that odd-looking little three-legged waterdog was hanging on the edge. I wasn't completely sure Lefty would stay in the harness, but I gave it a try and tossed him into the water.

Well, we sat there, waiting for the fish to move in for a meal. And then I got a solid strike. I missed him, but I could still feel a little movement on my line, so I figured Lefty was OK. Right away I got another bite, but I missed again. Buddy and Roger laughed at me. Like they had anything to laugh about - how many bites was they getting? But I gotta admit, after the third strike I missed, I was getting a little peeved at myself. Four, five, six...I just couldn't set the hook. If Roger and Buddy weren't so pissed about not getting any bites, they'd've really had a laugh on me.

I lost count of how many times I didn't set the hook. I ignored Buddy's offer to take over for me. And then my rod bent again and I hauled back for all I was worth. This time I didn't miss. I thought I musta hooked a world-record for sure. I never felt a fish fight like that. It was like it was pulling every direction at the same time. I fought that thing all day. Buddy wanted to go home, but I wasn't going to give up. On through the night I fought. Every time I gained a little, it just up and pulled my line right back out again.

The sun came up Saturday morning and I was still wrestling with that monster. Buddy and Roger each caught a little bass during the night...hell, no, they wasn't nothing like that big, you liars! Whatever was on my line had pulled the boat down the lake and clear across the county line and I wasn't sure just where we was gonna end up. But now Roger and Buddy was trolling lures while my fish pulled us around. And they caught a few bass and some bluegills, too, but I just kept on fighting whatever was on my line.

By sunset Saturday I was getting pretty tired. We was out of food and down to our last sixpack of beer. But I hung on. Just after daylight Sunday I finally turned things around and started gaining. It still took a couple more hours before a fish appeared at the end of my line. It was a big bass, all right, maybe ten pounds, and as I lifted it up I saw another one right behind it. A little bigger. And each fish I pulled out was followed by another, and each one was bigger than the last.

Well, I never seen anything like it. Each of them bigmouths musta swallowed ol' Lefty, and somehow he just sneaked on out their gills, leaving them strung on the line. After the tenth one - exactly my limit - the line was tied in a perfect knot.

"Improved clinch," Roger put in.

"Nope - Uni Knot," Buddy disagreed.

They wanted to argue the point, but it really don't matter. All that matters is that those ten bass, weighing ten to fifteen pounds, was all tied right up on my line by that smart little critter, Lefty. Now, Lefty, well...

Buddy interrupted at this point, "Lefty just slipped out of the harness, gave us a little salute with his good arm, and jumped overboard. We never seen him again."

"You're as crazy now as you was drunk then," Roger hollered. "Lefty was just done in by all them fish. He slipped out of the harness and fell dead, right into the boat. I buried him up on the hill by the dock when we took the boat out of the water."

And Roger and Buddy went at it, arguing like two kids. I just smiled, 'cause they was both wrong. Well, to give 'em credit, each of 'em had part of the story straight. Lefty slipped out of the harness and gave us sort of a salute, like he was thanking us for believing in him. Then he fell over dead, all right, poor brave critter. But we never buried him. Hell, everyone knows there ain't no better catfish bait than a dead waterdog. And believe me, that's just how Lefty would've wanted it.

Fried-News-Day

The news commentary today is a collaborative effort between many of the psycho-villagers. (If you're not familiar with them, check out the archives for my post on April 2nd, entitled "My Village." This will explain it all. And a lot more.)


Utah geologists say they have discovered prehistoric animal tracks so densely packed on a 3/4-acre rock site, they're calling it a "dinosaur dance floor."

Actually, they didn't start calling it a dance floor until they made a further, stunning discovery embedded in one of the footprints - a trampled and fossilized concert ticket from the Rolling Stones' first road trip. I'm sure that if Leno picks up this story he'll make a similar joke and add one about finding John McCain's footprints among the dinosaurs'.
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British billionaire Sir Richard Branson abandoned his try at a trans-Atlantic speed record when his ultra-modern racing yacht was hit with 40-foot waves in the Bermuda Triangle.

'E's mighty lucky 'e escaped that Bermudy Triangle, sez me. Many's the ship as can't say they done the same. Once't in the Triangle I see'd the Flyin' Dutchman a-comin' cross't the waves in a squall. And before we knowed what was happenin' nor could do nothin' to stop it, our ship, she went down by the stern and sank. All hands lost to Davey Jones Locker - ever' last Man Jack o' us...

Lucky fer me Davey has Internet access so I can foller the news and keep bloggin'...
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Quoted From the Associated Press: One of the Washington area's biggest malls is apologizing for firing their longtime Santa Claus. Tysons Corner Center in McLean, Va., recently told Michael Graham of Sevierville, Tenn., not to come back after 18 years.

Wait...you mean...they...hire people to pose as Santa? Th-th-th-that isn't really...S-S-Santa? I hope that doesn't mean...the Easter Bunny? The Great Pumpkin? Politicians that care about the common man? OH, NO - MY LIFE IS RUINED...

You know, I was fired from a job once, and they asked me not to come back after that same day. I think it's pretty generous of Tyson's Corner Center to give him 18 years' notice.

The saddest news, of course, is that they actually outsourced the Santa job to Sanjayta and his tiny Elvishnus.
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And finally:

If you peel the transparent adhesive tape off its roll in a vacuum chamber, it emits X-rays.

This came as no surprise to the (newly revealed as Republican - http://wcbstv.com/slideshows/Conservative.Celebrities.20.824701.html?rid=0 ) think-tank of Spears, Simpson and Spears, who issued this statement: "Duh - how else could you see through it?"

What do you know - three heads ARE blonder than one!

Scientists are now researching the effects of peeling double-sided tape from the roll. Preliminary results show that in some brands, the second sticky side traps all the X-rays emitted by the first sticky side. But there are certain kinds of double-sided tape which emit XX-rays, a finding which spurred 23 states and all Muslim countries to immediately ban triple-sided tape.
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New Personal Philosophy

Every now and again I change my personal philosophy statement. I always keep the statements simple so that I can easily remember them.

It doesn't always work - I think I have forgotten at least the last two.

At one time I lived by "I take my humor very seriously, thank you."

I know that was supplanted at least once and probably twice. Maybe even more.

But now I have chosen new words to live by:

"MPD means never having to say you're lonely."

And most, if not all, of my psycho-village concurs...

Bumper Crop of Oddities

This is a little something I wrote over a year ago, before I launched out into the blogosphere. I hope it's OK to recycle writings in a blog...

This is a little story about...well, it's maybe not so much a story as a humorous anecdote. It's about...OK, maybe it's not really an anecdote - more of a discussion of a topic that may be of some interest. Hmmmm...maybe "discussion" suggests a degree of organization that will be prominently absent here. Basically I hope you enjoy this rambling, mostly unsorted collection of thoughts about the things Americans display on the tail-ends of our cars.

I own exactly one bumper-sticker, and it is the only one I have ever owned. It says, "Sarcasm - just another service I offer," and it is not affixed to any portion of my vehicle. In fact, it currently resides in a box full of stuff I haven't unpacked from my last job-switch.

Let me also make it clear that my general impression of "Christian" bumper-stickers is that they exist merely to prove that Christians' cars go just as fast as anyone else's and that Christians possess no superior driving skills, no greater respect for traffic laws, and no better manners than their unchurched counterparts.

One morning as I drove to work I noticed one of those Ford SUVs - you know, the ones that are bigger than my first apartment. Attached to the vast tailgate was a single, understated, chrome outline of a simple fish, like an ichthus without the Greek letters inside. The license plate holder was made to resemble very thickly-stranded barbed-wire. And on either side of the rear window stood the nude silhouette of an impossibly-endowed woman. The one on the left sported horns and a pointed tail; the one on the right displayed a halo and wings. Some sort of statement about "good vs. evil," I guess. The truck was driven by a woman. I felt as though I had stumbled into some sort of meeting where everyone was bumper-sticking in tongues and there was no interpreter. It was as confusing as reading the Bible for the first time by grabbing up an old King James version and starting in the Book of Ecclesiastes.

Some years ago, as a thirty-something college student, I was a member of a choir which made a statewide tour in the spring. Some of the places we visited were most memorable for all the things there weren't to do. Kingman was one of those towns. My roommate and I crossed the highway in front of our motel to visit an all-night truck stop in the hopes of finding something at least marginally more entertaining than the pitiful TV lineup. We browsed around the little convenience store and finally discovered something that was good for several minutes of banter and not a few belly-laughs - a display rack full of those ubiquitous chrome silhouettes of a nude, kneeling woman. The label on the package included this claim, "100's of decorative uses!" My friend, "Fig," and I are both reasonably creativeindividuals, but not even the combined power of both our imaginations got us anywhere near the first hundred uses, much less multiples thereof. We had a lot of fun trying, though.

There is a small pickup that I occasionally used to see on the way to or from my work. Its rear window is completely covered with a decal that says, "Crawling Squid Tattoos," accompanied, of course, by a wildly colorful depiction of the sea-creature in question.

I regularly see vehicles sporting stickers with print so small they may as well say, "If you can read this, I guess your airbag must have already deflated." Maybe that IS what they say - I have surely never gotten close enough to find out.

I suppose Phoenix isn't the only place with those "My kid was student of the week at..." or "My kid's an honor student at..." And so I presume the riposte sticker is as well-known, "My kid beat up your honor student." All good fun, ha, ha. Now I see stickers bragging about people's dogs completing obedience school. I hope that's a joke. If not, I'm sure there must be plenty of dogs who would happily wear the slogan, "My owner's an idiot."

Do you remember the great "I FOUND IT" campaign? I recall seeing those stickers on cars that made me think, "If I'd found that, I'd throw it back."

If ever I were to place a bumper-sticker on my vehicle, I think it would say "BUMPER," with an arrow pointing to the fixture indicated, although I have occasionally been tempted by those Yosemite Sam mud-flaps commanding other drivers to "BACK OFF!" Lately I've been thinking I should market a yellow, warning-sign-shaped sticker that says "BEWARE OF GOD."

I must admit that I found the "Boyfriend in trunk" sign pretty funny when it was accompanied by a necktie hanging from the sealed lip of the vehicle's closed trunk.

In the final analysis, if that's what this is, I confess that I truly appreciate some of the messages plastered on vehicles. How many school buses have been saved from rear-ending just because they display the warning, "This vehicle stops at railroad crossings"? And certainly no one would argue against those "flammable" and "explosive" warning symbols displayed prominently on gasoline tankers and medical equipment transport vehicles, and...oh, yeah, on the rear end of an old Ford Pinto I passed one day.

TGI Fried-News-Day

This has been a week of news stories with eerie connections. Coincidence? You be the judge!

1) As Flowers by HP Papadopoulous was opening for business, a robber held up the shopkeeper, claiming that he needed to feed his family. During the robbery, he also politely greeted his victim with a friendly "hello" and wished him a "good morning."

2) In a separate incident, a robber sent his elderly victim a bouquet of flowers to apologize for frightening her when he broke into her house.

I don't know - how separate are these incidents, really?
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1) South Dakota officials have charged American Indian activist Russell Means with fishing without a license. Means, in turn, filed a federal lawsuit in Rapid City, asking for a preliminary injunction. He argues that the charge is a violation of the 1851 Fort Laramie Treaty. Means states that under the treaty, the Sioux did not surrender their hunting and fishing privileges in western South Dakota.

2) "Joe the Plumber," of presidential debate fame, says that he doesn't have a plumbing license and doesn't need one.

Is he saying that his ancestors made a treaty in which they did not surrender their plumbing privileges?
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In environmental news, Arizona Game and Fish Department officials say that endangered Mount Graham red squirrels have declined by about 12 percent in the past year. The Associated Press reports:

The annual fall count of the tiny 8-ounce squirrel shows that just 263 are alive this year, give or take 11 animals. Last year's count turned up 299 animals, plus or minus 11.

I wonder if they are "plus or minus" the same 11 squirrels every year?
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A recent study suggests that individuals performing CPR can maintain close to the ideal number of chest compressions while listening to the tune, Stayin' Alive. This is because the rhythm of the song moves at about 103 beats per minute, very close to the 100 compressions per minute that experts recommend for CPR.

I don't know - maybe it's just me, but if someone is playing Stayin' Alive while they're trying to resuscitate you, does that really give you any incentive to live?
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A Florida man is suing a local strip club because he claims a performer's shoe flew off during a pole dance, shattering the mirrored ceiling. He says he was struck by falling glass (and the shoe), causing a laceration to his eyebrow, along with ongoing headaches and nose bleeds. He is seeking at least $15,000 in damages.

Yeah - I can just hear the exchange in that courtroom:

"The laceration I understand, Mr. Privette, but how do you explain the headaches and nosebleeds?"

"My wife keeps telling me that if I want a woman to hit me in the head with a shoe, I don't have to go to a strip club to get it. She says she's happy to provide that for me at home. Then she proves it."

"I see. And how did you arrive at this figure of $15,000.00 for damages?"

"Well, Your Honor, that's what my lawyer figures it'll cost to represent me in my divorce case."
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And finally, in more environmental news, the federal government has declared that the beluga whale in Alaska's Cook Inlet is endangered and will require additional protection to survive. Recent surveys show about 300 of the white whales living in Cook Inlet.

No sign of the 11 Mount Graham red squirrels...

In the middle of the Atlantic Ocean...

...I think God may be calling me...

...to start a house church...

...in the Azores...

...

...

...(sigh)...

News and More

This story is remarkable. It actually scored in two departments.

First, from the remarkably-poorly-written sentence department:

10-year-old driver flips van in Tennessee
Oct. 7, 2008 10:08 AM Associated Press

A 10-year-old was driving up to 90 mph when he crashed a van carrying a man who told police he had drank at least 15 beers and a woman who was trying to swallow as many pills as she could when deputies arrived at the scene, Tennessee authorities said Tuesday.

Whoever had wrote this sentence must also have drank at least 15 beers and a pill-swallowing woman. Even if Tennessee authorities speak in run-on sentences, you'd think a reporter could clean it up a little better than this.

Second, from the remarkably-like-a-Jeff-Foxworthy-joke department:

The children - two 10-year-olds and a 6-year-old - were related to the adults, said authorities who declined to further detail the relationships.

If your family tree doesn't fork, "authorities" may decline to "further detail the relationships."

Just sayin'...
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While we're on the topic of less-than-stellar writing, consider this spam e-mail I received this week:

From: Internal Revenue Service notice@irs.gov
Dear Applicant:

After the last annual calculation your fiscal activity we have determined that you are eligible to receive a tax refound of $620.50.
Click on the link below to receive your refound:

http://newspuri.com/IRS-Refound/SECURE/mainpage/www.irs.com/portal/

Please submit the tax refound and allow 3-9 business days in order to precess it. If you don't receive your refound within 9 business days in from the original IRS mailing date shown on "Where's My Refound?", you can start a refound trace online.

Copyright (c) 2008 - Internal Revenue Service. All rights reserved.

You know, I didn't click the link to claim my "refound." I have the feeling that they would give me the opportunity to hand over information that would allow them to access my bank account. Then they could steal my money. Of course, if the quality of this trap is any indication of their intelligence, they would end up falling for a Nigerian scam and lose the money they stole from me. And I refuse to support a Nigerian scam.
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Oh, what the heck - let's stay on the poorly-written-sentence desk. This one is especially ironic as it comes from an article written about a classic literary work:

'Moby-Dick' chosen as Mass. 'epic novel'
Oct. 10, 2008 07:36 AM Associated Press

Melville wrote the book about a ship crew's confrontation with the elusive white whale in Pittsfield.

I've read Moby-Dick. I don't remember the whale or the ship leaving the ocean for a 150-mile journey inland to Pittsfield.
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DETROIT - Three seventh-grade girls at Trinity Lutheran School in Monroe were ordered to strip to their underwear while a teacher investigated the alleged theft of $42, their parents charge.

This could only happen at a private school. In public school, most seventh-grade girls don't have to disrobe in order for a teacher to see their underwear and anything they may be hiding therein.
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And finally, we have at last discovered why blondes are the collective butt of so many great jokes:

Blonde sues over brown dye
Oct. 8, 2008 07:24 AM Associated Press

BRIDGEPORT, Conn.- A Connecticut judge has given the brush-off to a blonde woman's lawsuit claiming L'Oreal Inc. ruined her social life when she accidentally dyed her hair brunette with one of its products.

Charlotte Feeney of Stratford says she can never return to her natural blonde hue, a shock that left her so traumatized she needed anti-depressants.

A Superior Court judge dismissed Feeney's 2005 lawsuit Monday, saying she never proved her allegation that L'Oreal put brown hair dye in a box labeled as blonde. The company also had disputed the claim.

Ummm ... if she was concerned about her "natural blonde hue," why was she dying her hair in the first place? And why can she "never return" to her natural color? Is there some unwritten code among blondes that says once you dye your hair brown, you're forbidden from ever again sporting blonde hair? Or has she simply never noticed that hair grows out in its original color, not the color it has been dyed? And don't even get me started on the whole anti-depressant thing!

A quiet word...

A quiet word is my proposition...(Duran Duran, Proposition)

Proposition 102, adding the following amendment to the Arizona Constitution:
"ONLY A UNION OF ONE MAN AND ONE WOMAN SHALL BE VALID OR RECOGNIZED AS A MARRIAGE IN THIS STATE."

Predictably, these words have proven to be anything but quiet.

So, let my words start with a sentence that will quite possibly disappoint, anger, or even infuriate some readers:
I do not plan to vote in favor of this proposition.

At this point I do not plan to vote against it, either, although that could change as I consider the ramifications of a "no" vote as opposed to "no vote." You see, I really don't care whether or not this proposition passes. It's not that I don't care about marriage. I do - very much. I've invested almost 30 years in my own marriage, and I wouldn't trade that for anything. I will happily invest it in the expectation of receiving a return of another year, or 10, or 30, or more, of marriage. So I am not casual about marriage. Just about this proposition.

Ask a supporter of the proposition why they plan on voting for it, and the common answer is, "to protect the sanctity of marriage." I'm all-for the sanctity of marriage. But I'm disappointed with this answer to the question of why vote for Prop 102. "To protect the sanctity of marriage" is a slogan, not an argument. And to me it makes little sense to vote for something on the strength of a slogan.

Let's think about how Prop 102 might "protect the sanctity of marriage." First, who sanctifies marriage? The Great State of Arizona? Mmmm, not so much. Any sanctity in marriage is a blessing and a boundary established by God, not by our state government. And to quote (or possibly paraphrase) my friend Glen Roachelle, "Do you really think you've got enough under the hood to upset the Ancient of Days?" I'd have to say, "no." In fact, if it isn't too odd a turn of phrase in this instance, I'd have to say, "HELL, NO!"

So, I think there is very little risk that God will be forced to disavow His sanction and sanctification of marriage in Arizona based upon the failure of our Constitution to contain these particular 20 words. If God does not now sanctify gay marriages, He will not be constrained to do so in the absence of Constitutional authority.

Another argument in favor of Proposition 102 is the possibility that Arizona's existing statutory ban on same-sex marriages, which has been tested in court, may someday be overturned by another judge. In this case, proponents argue, anyone who refuses to conduct a wedding ceremony for a gay couple may be open to civil or criminal action. I absolutely oppose civil or criminal penalties of this sort. If there is ever an attempt to enact or enforce such things in this state, I will happily rage against it. But at this point, Proposition 102 is fighting, at best, a windmill of an enemy.

Now let me suggest the real effects of Prop 102. Not the sloganized, nor the Quixotic, but the real effects.

First, I believe that the true reason most people support the proposition is that we, as Christians, prefer to live in a world where everyone acts according to our standards. We are uncomfortable when surrounded by people making life choices that we disagree with. So, the real purpose, and one of the only real effects of Prop 102, is to make Christians comfortable by taking away the "unpleasantness" of a society in which gays can legally marry. To truly "protect the sanctity of marriage," why not propose an amendment that would not allow marriage after a prior marriage ends in divorce? Because we're reasonably comfortable with divorce, for one thing, and because the huge number of divorced churchgoers would find good reason not to get behind such a proposal. If we can, by legislation, just erase the appearance of sin, then it's much easier for us to shirk our duty of spreading the good news of redemption.

But we cannot fight spiritual battles with earthly weapons! And make no mistake, opposing sin is a spiritual battle. The only weapon at our disposal is the work of Jesus Christ - nothing else can erase sin. If we are going to trust the government to enforce Christian behavior (and I'm not even going to discuss the marginal basis-in-truth of much that Christians attempt to make others do), then why not just go all the way? Let's pass an Amendment to the Arizona Constitution requiring that everyone must accept Jesus as their personal Savior on or before their 12th birthday. Problem solved.

The second effect of Proposition 102 has, unfortunately, already happened. People outside the church are asking why church folks can raise almost 7 million dollars to pass this proposition, instead of spending the money helping the homeless, hungry, poor, abused, and lost. And don't even compare that question to Judas' indignation at Jesus for allowing a woman to anoint Him with expensive perfume. This is a perfectly valid question. What if "the world" saw the church as a loving, giving, caring, self-sacrificing community? Then we would have something to offer when we share our good news. Instead, they see us - with good reason - as judgmental, hateful, uncaring, selfish and greedy. And the only thing they see us offering them is a list of "don'ts." H. L. Mencken, (A Mencken Chrestomathy) identified this fact in his definition of Puritanism - "The haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy. " This is exactly how we appear to outsiders.

So, Proposition 102, in my view, is a selfish waste of time, energy and money, that has already succeeded in making it more difficult than ever for us to spread the good news. And this won't be persecution, folks, it'll just be what we asked for.

Having said all that, I also have to say that because this is America, people have the right to vote for their own comfort if they so choose. Please vote your conscience, and if it differs from mine, that's cool. We're in this Christianity thing together, no matter how we might bang heads.

Where's the Line, Again?

Leonard Cohen's song, Hallelujah, defies a market flooded with thumping bass, orchestra backups, electronic loops, vocal gymnastics, and never-ending trivial variants on "You're great, I love you" lyrics.

Cohen gives us an almost minimalist combination of spare instrumentation, often a single guitar, playing simple broken chords under a solo voice. The bare texture grabs our ear as suddenly and irresistibly as an unexpected scream.

And then, in the silence following the quiet message, we're left to ponder his meaning.

I think the song defines a relationship won and lost. I hear a tale of passion fired and then cooled, told in a metaphor of sex as religious experience.

There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah.

And here I come at odds with myself. The language is not nearly as explicit as the images it conjures, but in conjuring those images, does the song cross a line between beauty and vulgarity? And maybe even more importantly, does Cohen's juxtaposition of religious and sexual imagery cross a line between sacred and profane? Let me ask the question with a somewhat less fine point.

For a Christ-follower, does this song lie within or without the guidelines in Philippians 4:8 - ...whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things?

I confess I don't know. But maybe this is what good (maybe even great) art is about - capturing our attention and then leaving troubling thoughts behind for us to sort out.

News!

In academic news, mathematicians at UCLA have found a 13 million-digit prime number.

Whew! That's a relief - I was wondering where I left it.
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In national news, Congress approved an unprecedented $700 billion government bailout of the battered financial industry. This version of the bill included a number of "sweeteners" to induce reluctant members to vote it into law. Here are some of those "sweeteners:"

A tax break for NASCAR racetracks and other motor-sports facilities.
A tax break for rum produced in Puerto Rico and the U.S. Virgin Islands.
Exempting from excise tax certain wooden arrow shafts for use by children.

Good thing I moved my 401K into NASCAR tickets, rum futures and wooden arrows.
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In news from across the pond, a court has suspended the license of a truck driver who careened down a highway while watching episodes of Battlestar Galactica on a laptop computer atop his dashboard.

Yeah, you know I just have to ask - there's a trucker who watches Battlestar Galactica?
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In meteorological, paleontological, and oddly enough, somewhat political news - a homeowner whose beachfront property in Texas was destroyed during Hurricane Ike has found a fossil Columbian mammoth tooth among the debris in her front yard. According to paleontologists, Columbian mammoths were common in North America until about 10,000 years ago.

I'm guessing the mammoth refused to evacuate its beachfront home in 15,473 BC and was killed by Hurricane Ug.

Maybe the other mammoths in its herd expected the government to step in and rebuild their ... whatever Columbian mammoths lived in. Trouble is, it took almost 20,000 years to raise taxes high enough to do it. Meanwhile, mammoths went extinct.
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And that's the news for this week. Tune in next week for further discussion of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah, a little talk about a certain Proposition coming up in the November election, and with any luck, more fun news. And maybe some surprises as well. Of course, that would mean posting more than once or twice next week, which would be a surprise in and of itself.

So, congratulations, Neal E. Boyd, even though I was rooting for Nuttin But Stringz or Queen Emily. And Kenley, if you've always had to fight people to get through life, you might want to try and figure out the common denominator in your conflicts. Hint - it's a 3-letter word that can be abbreviated "U."

Where's The Line?

It isn't a new song, by any means, but it stops me in my tracks every time I hear it. It's been covered over and over again, and it's appeared in gobs of movies and TV shows. In fact, this little post was inspired by landing in the middle of Shrek while channel-surfing the other night.

Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing
Hallelujah

Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah...

(Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah)

If you want to hear it, there are lots of versions on YouTube - some of them really good. Be warned that the context becomes pretty sensual, although in poetic metaphor. If you choose to continue on, here are some clips that I like:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ckbdLVX736U (John Cale - I especially like the piano and strings arrangement. There are a lot of variant lyrics - Cohen himself has done several very different versions of the song.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T2NEU6Xf7lM&feature=related (4 guys and a guitar - this would easily be my favorite except I think Alejandro Fuentes' raspy voice doesn't suit the rest of the ensemble. Kurt Nilsen is just amazing - if the teeth don't distract you)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vIMOdVXAPJ0&feature=related (Allison Crowe - this is my favorite so far. I wish the sound was a little louder on this clip, but I love the simplicity of the piano and the richness of her voice and her emotional expression. On the other hand, the song is written from a distinctly male perspective and loses some nuance when a woman sings it.)

Don't confuse Allison Crowe's clip with Sheryl Crow's version. Sheryl should be fined and enjoined from ever again ruining this song. I hesitate to even put up the link, but here it is, in all its disappointing failure to understand a whit of what the lyrics, harmony and melody were meant to accomplish together - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nWDfH51gvc0

But I really want to talk about the lyrics, because they tread (and perhaps cross) some very fine lines. And that will be a topic for another post.